


The Holmes Brothers

by AmbiiAir



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: AU, Gen, Hunters, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 16:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbiiAir/pseuds/AmbiiAir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the Holmes brothers are a pair of the best hunters, They're known all over Europe and Asia, and even in the U.S. Many say their as good as the Winchesters, They certainty are fighting the same battles as them. starts out with the 66 seals business. will speed up to present day and beyond...i hope. this is my first sherlock or supernatural fic. be nice be critical, please read! :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. no title yet

Within the hollow interior of the fire place there are a series of shelves. The inside is far larger than any casual observer would believe; it stretches to the size of a fairly large walk in closet, but there is hardly room for more than two people. The area is clustered, as is the entirety of the flat. The wooden floor of this room has a large symbol painted in a rusty red at its entrance, a devils trap. Against the back wall lies large bags of rock salt . An assortment of guns, blades and machetes of all sizes are hung to the wall as if they are prized possessions. Four long rows of shelves line on the two opposing walls.   
These shelves are filled in no noticeable pattern, but with the owner of this flat, you can never b e too sure. There are boxes filled with supplies of all sorts, bones and woods and herbs. There are boxes that house curs ed objects, locked up for safe keeping and lined with a healthy layer of years old dust. Various knives of silver and iron with strange and unknown carvings along the blade were tossed carelessly among a few old guns. Books lined two of the shelves entirely, but they had not been read in ages, all their information had been absorbed and used to the fullest extent. These books were filled with popular lore from all corners of the earth, and some even from the darkest corners of hell. It was a small collection, after all this is a small room. None the less the collection was valuable, one might sell their soul to learn the things hidden within them.  
along the floors of this room there were also a couple of books, stacked anything but neatly next to a bucket of paint, a few bowls that had dried blood along the inner curve. countless boxes of ammunition were in a scattered pile, along with various tools that were used for things such as melting metal, and sharpening and cleaning weapons.   
From outside this fireplace, the only thing you could see was yourself when you looked into the mirror above the mantle, and a couple of assorted decorations such as the human scull that rest to the left of a moth display. The inside of the fire place looked dark, and utterly normal, which was perfect of course.  
Behind the eye catching black and white wallpaper of this living area, there are numerous sigils painted to protect the flat and ward off various creatures.   
A man sat in an armchair, in the relative center of the room, his palms are pressed against each other, the tips of his fingers just barely touching the underbelly of his nose. He sat in deep thought, lips mumbling unnoticed words before he was interrupted.  
A petite middle aged woman entered the space,  
“Oh hoo! Sherlock, I’m making tea, do you want any?” She paraded through the room and into the kitchen.  
“No Mrs. Hudson. I’m going out” He rose from his chair and put his coat on, weaving his scarf around his neck.  
“Alright, dear” Mrs. Hudson called, “Do bring your brother back safely.”  
“Yes, yes” Sherlock spoke almost irritatedly as he started down the stairs to leave 221b.  
Sherlock took long precise steps down the block and around the corner until he found what he was looking for, a man.  
“Spare change,” The man was sitting, back against a black metal fence that lined the street. “spare change” His clothes were old, he’d been wearing them for a long time. it was evident that this man was homeless, late thirties and had a history of gambling and alcohol. He most likely once worked in an office, something along the line of assistant.  
“Spare change” He called one more time, grateful meeting eyes with sherlocks.  
“Don’t mind if I do,” Sherlock said to the man as he took a folded paper into clenched fingers and turned on his heels to the curb. A taxi was hauled and the note was opened, across it the word ‘Seen’ was written, accompanied by a street name that he read to the cabbie.  
His brother had been quite preoccupied as of late, partaking in hunt after hunt. Mycroft was never one to let a job go unfinished, and he was convinced that something big was coming. With the sources the Holmes brothers have, it wasn’t unlikely. They had not hunted as brothers in well over a year, but that would change soon.  
Sherlock fished a fag from his coat pocket and after lighting it, placed it in its place between his lips. He had stress to relieve. There was no telling yet what his brother had gotten himself into. Another quarrel with demons no doubt. Perhaps he’s found himself hog tied in a nest of vampires, less likely but far more amusing.  
“You can’t do that here.” The cabbie broke through his train of thought. Sherlock glanced at him, reading him for only a moment before turning back to his fag for another hearty puff.  
“you can’t smoke in the taxi, sir” the man spoke more forcefully.  
“You don’t really want me to stop, You’re a smoker yourself. Chain smoker actually, since a young age. But I’m sure with this job you can’t smoke nearly as much as you’d like. My every puff is feeding your desire” He said dryly, before sucking in another tobacco filled breath.  
“I’m trying to quit,” The cabbie defended.  
“Hardly.” Sherlock breathed, “You’ve smoked less than an hour ago, two, no three cigarets back to back. You’ve told your wife of over five years that you’re quitting, but you have not put forth the effort. Are the children worried? I’m sure they ask about your cough. I would be worried too with that breathing pattern.”  
The cabbie tried his best to cover up a perfectly timed rough heave in his lungs, and the rest of the ride was silent.   
The taxi stopped, and sherlock paid what he owed the man, leaving the car and stepping onto the pavement of a familiar street. He knew all the streets in London, of course.  
“Ah, I see your little homeless experiment got the memo across?” The man had his back leaning against the pale exterior of the building behind him. Back straight, posture confident, as always. His eyes were serious but remained as carelessly daring as they always were. He stepped away from the wall, footsteps casual, arms crossed over his chest, and judging by his palms, he had been drinking just enough. But when hadn’t he?  
The mans body language had always been rather difficult to read,after all he is not human, but Sherlock was accustomed to it now.  
“Balthazar,” Sherlock starts, sounding rather agitated. “I don’t have time for this.”  
“I know you aren't working a case, darling.”  
“Wheres Mycroft?” Sherlock responded impatiently.  
“He’s in the Library, same place he always is when he’s in town.” Balthazar’s voice proved his disappointment. They were both aware of how obsessive his brother could get, spending hours even days reading up in his own personal library of the supernatural. Sherlock hadn't actually seen him in about a month.   
“What is it this time?”  
“A crossroad’s been making his way through a town about an hour up” Balthazar explained, and Sherlock waited for a moment, willing him with his eyes to continue.  
“That isn't why you called me here” He pressed.  
Balthazar pursed his lips and pulled a newly appeared glass of scotch to his lips before speaking.  
“They’ve been talking,” and that was all sherlock needed to hear to understand that things were only going to get worse from here. “Last week. ‘Dean Winchester is saved’.”  
Everyone knew of the Winchesters just as well as people in the hunter community knew the Holmes’. Very few hunters could be considered the absolute best, but there was no doubt that the Holmes brothers and the Winchesters finished their jobs in an artistic manor to be admired. It was well known that Dean, the eldest of the brothers had sold his soul to save his brother, he’s been in far worse a predicament than death for a few months now.  
“It’s the beginning of the end, Sherlock” Balthazar finished.

asdfghjkl;’

 

“Sherlock. Thats him, thats the man I was talking to you about.” John practically whispered urgently.  
“I know exactly who that is.”  
“So, another case cracked. How very public spirited.” Mycroft teased a smile “Though thats never really your motivation is it?”  
“What are you doing here?” Sherlock met eyes with his brother.  
“As ever, I’m concerned about you.”  
“Yes, I’ve heard of your concern” Sherlock spoke sarcastically. “Why are you really here, Mycroft?”  
“Another one has been broken,” Mycroft huffed out. “It would seem I need your help.”  
“Oddly enough, I’d like to decline that offer”  
John watched their little banter carefully,still not quite sure how to feel about this whole arch enemy business.  
“Yes- Another what then?” He chimed in curiously, only to be ignored.  
“This isn’t an offer, Sherlock. It is necessary.” he stressed “This petty feud between us is simply childish. People are going to suffer. And you know how it always upset mummy”  
“I upset her?” Sherlock pressed. “Me? It wasn’t me who upset her, Mycroft.”  
“No, no. wait” John interjected “Mummy? Who’s mummy?”  
“Mother” sherlock explained, not looking away from Mycroft “Our mother. This is my brother, Mycroft.” he returned his attention to Mycroft, “Putting on weight again?”  
“Losing it in fact” His eyes narrowed for a moment.  
“He’s your brother?” John still wasn't grasping the absurdity of the situation.   
“Of course he’s my brother”  
“So he’s not?”  
“Not what?”  
“I don’t know, a criminal mastermind?”  
“Close enough.” Sherlock confirmed.  
“For goodness sake, Sherlock. I haven't got the time” Mycroft stressed “They are losing this war.”  
“How many now?” He pressed.  
“Twenty two yesterday.”  
“Well have we won any?! Bloody hell are we handing them out gift wrapped now?”  
“You know as well as I do, dear brother, we haven't had any way of tracking which they will take next. They aren’t nearly as predictable as the..usual” He refrained from stating words like demons or apocalypse or even the word humans in front of john. “None have been won yet. It seems as if its pointless” He let out a nervous chuckle. Sherlock could tell that this wasn’t only a bad news visit, there was something else.  
“They’ve made a mistake haven’t they?” A mistake is just what they needed to get a step ahead of the game.  
“Perhaps.” Mycroft suggested, “I’ve got one, and he’s let the name of who’s been running this whole operation slip. She goes by the name of Lilith.”   
“And of course her group of cockroaches are placed across the globe, ready to break any one of the seals. No wonder the Winchesters have been having no progress.” Sherlock sniffed.  
“Could one of you please tell me what all this chat of seals is about? who are the Wi-” Johns irritation was cut short by the Holmes brothers continuing to ignore him. John doesn't know why he tried.  
“Where to next?” sherlock asked.  
“Balthazar will let us know soon enough.”  
Sherlock nodded at this, silently agreeing that he would get John back home to 221b Baker street, and prepare himself.

asdfghjkl;’

“Sherlock, I do wish you would quit” Mycroft glanced at his brother from the drivers seat of the car.  
Sherlock blew a breath of smoke out of the open window, “The thought had occurred to me once, but it was far too unlikely, so I deleted it.”  
“You know mother wou-” He was cut off  
“Must you bring Mummy into everything!” Sherlock spat aggravated.  
“Boys, Please can’t you behave like grown-ups from time to time?” Balthazar’s voice came from the back seat, after a flutter of wings.  
“I hardly doubt little Sherly here could handle it.” Mycroft mused only to have a glare of death shot at him from his brother. He payed no mind to it.  
“Which seal are they after this time?” Sherlock sucked in a deep breath of tobacco and pleasure, only to blow it out into his brothers direction.  
“Something about rising the first man and rubbish.” He waved the words away with his hand.   
“Adam and Eve? exactly what chaos will they bring, I’m sure its far more disastrous than apples.” Mycroft questioned.  
“Just Adam actually. They will resurrect him and he will bring immortality back to man. Not as lovely as it sounds,” He started, only for Sherlock to catch where it was going and continue.  
“Those who were not immortal will be. The dead will rise, without their souls and without nearly enough space. The panic will just be a delightful cup of tea for Lilith I’m sure.” He smiled, interested in the idea.  
“I’m Afraid her cup of tea wont be had until my Brother walks the earth once more.” Balthazar stated bitterly.  
“Do we know where this is happening? Where the garden actually was?” Mycroft pressed.  
“Yes, It would seem that it is taking place somewhere in southern Africa. I’ve informed Castiel that we will handle this one as best we can.”  
“Well this does sound exciting!” Sherlock clapped his hands together, “ The first man. Dead arising with immortality. Oh yes! It’s starting to reek of apocalypse!” He dabbed his fag into the ash tray enthusiastically.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long. i put it on Fanfic.net but forgot about here some johnlock. I wont be updating for a while. finals an all. enjoy<3

It was as simple as a Celestial being having transported them to a rather vacant place in Africa. A small cluster of huts and buildings could be seen in the distance, and a few scattered by themselves farther away. The closest one was what looked to be a relatively worn wooden cottage. Their feet crunched lightly along the dry patches of dirt and dust. They stood crouched on either side of the main door, mycroft on the right, sherlock and Balthazar on the left. The brothers checked and readied their hand guns, each loaded with silver bullets who's heads were tattooed with devils traps. Balthazar allowed his angel blade to slip into his palm, and his stance to prepare for defending. Sherlock pressed his ear to the wall, listening to footsteps to build a blueprint of how many were there and where in the room they were. He signaled to the others that there were two in the back, four scattered around the middle, perhaps around a table, and another just beyond the door.  
“Shall we?” Balthazar pressed followed by Sherlocks bemused “Oh, yes.” and Mycroft’s shoving through the door, gun raised.   
Of course they were expecting them, there was no reason for them not to, but this is what the Holmes brothers do, and everything was planned. Balthazar jumped forward toward the back of the room in quick fluid movements he began to dance in battle against the two demons. The four that surrounded the center began to rush their motions, mixing blood with herbs, and chanting words in an old language. The demon closest to them, who had been by the door jabbed a fist toward Sherlock which he dodged. almost immediately, Mycroft dug his fingers into the hair of the demons meat suit, pulling its head back to meet the shaft of his gun. The bullet planted itself into the demons scull, leaving it to twitch and fall into a writhing pile of agony.  
One of the two demons Balthazar had taken on was already dead, its throat had been slit well into the bone. The other trying to worm its way as best it could away from the blade, still desperate to get the upper hand. The chanting from one demon was cut short by it turning to slam Mycroft into the bitter wooden wall behind him. The wood cracked under the force, and a hand clasped around Mycroft’s neck was typical. Demons are far too predictable, and far too easy to beat. Sherlock cocked his gun and fired a bullet smoothly through its scull. Mycroft’s feet met the ground as the demons knees fell prior to its head on the dirt. He straightened out his collar and cleared is throat.  
“You do care” He mused at his brother.  
There were three left around the table at this point, Balthazar pulled his blade from the bloodied gut of the second demon and turned to face the brothers and other demons.  
A bullet from sherlock met the head of the demon Balthazar was about to smite with his palm.  
“No time to show off, Balthazar” he added.  
“Oh but you do know how I love to” His voice faked disappointment  
“You cant stop Lucifer from Rising” one demon spoke, it wore a female vessel. Eyes beaming black, but opened in hope, her stance is confident and her palms are wound in tight fists at her side. But you can tell quite a lot from a voice, and hers trembled ever so slightly with an unsure lip. They’re scared, and they should be. The table is decorated with typical ritual objects, an intricate golden bowl that was a few thousand years old. It was filled with blood and the tops of bones peeked from the red liquid. Most likely the bones from a palm. around the bowl was a intricately painted sigil, specific to Adam no doubt. It wasn't one Sherlock had seen before, and he would be sure to document the ritual in its entirety somewhere safe, although the last few words would be missing, because the last demon who was still chanting, just received a palm to the back of the head from Balthazar.  
“Your voice alone is a breeding ground for idiocy.” Sherlock groaned and raised his gun, but Mycroft had beaten him to it. His eyes darted to meet his brothers for just a moment while Mycroft straightened up, adjusting his jacket.  
“There’s one seal saved I believe”   
“Two.” Balthazar confirmed, “The winchesters won one two days ago. stopped reapers from being killed. Perhaps we can win this” He almost sounded hopeful through his indifferent facade. Hope was a fools emotion.  
“Highly unlikely. The odds are against us I’m afraid” Mycroft expressed the same thing we all knew.  
“Lilith is going to set Lucifer free and there isn't a thing we can do to stop her.” He continued.  
Five bodies twitched lightly against the rough dirt, trapped within themselves thanks to the carved bullets.  
“Take them back now.” Sherlock told Balthazar, who rolled his eyes in response. He had grown used to doing things Sherlock demanded of him, as much as he disliked being told what to do, he was happy to help the Holmes brothers.  
“Fine” he muttered, collecting the twitching bodies. “But once I get you back, I’ve got a date with Cassie dear and Gabe, my darling brothers” he let out an exasperated sigh. There were things that needed to be discussed, of course. Perhaps the topic of heaven completely handing this war over to hell would come up. Cause they surely weren’t bringing their best game. It was as if they wanted Lucifer to rise. That was it!  
“Yes of course”

asdfghjkl;

Sherlock sat scrunched up with his knees against his chest in an arm chair in the far corner of Mycroft’s library. This library was absolutely marvelous, and was by far a favorite place for both of the brothers. The collection of books was vast and extraordinary, knowledge on every known creature. There were hundreds upon hundreds of years of lore stored in this place. There were rituals written on the oldest paper, and books bound with human flesh. The walls were layered, first a good foot of iron, then wood painted with every known warding sigil, even Balthazar wasn’t let in. Over the wood was thick red velvet and cherry wood bookshelves,as elegant as Mycroft’s taste.  
Mycroft himself was a few shelves away, out of sight with his nose in a book on heaven. Sherlock fished a cigaret out of his pocket, lit it and inhaled. He was desperately craving the feeling of getting high but there was no time for that. A good fag would have to do.  
“They want Lucifer to rise you know.” He spoke, and it took Mycroft a good few minutes to respond.  
“It would seem that way.” He sounded as if he had no other choice than to accept it. “I don’t like to think Balthazar wants our world to end. He’s been here for quite some time.”  
“I hardly think he knows what is going on,” Sherlock suggested, “The angels are made to obey God, they wouldn't be told all the details.”  
“God isn’t home apparently, so it must be one of the Arch’s sending orders around. Michael, do you think?” Mycroft flipped through the pages of the book.  
“The lore states that he would have to fight his brother. I don't think sentiment would allow him to willingly do this”  
“Sentiment.” Mycroft scoffed, “Of course.”  
It was silent for a while, Sherlock smoked in silence, and Mycroft read.  
“You’ve gone over that book five times already, are you expecting to find something new?” Sherlock tossed the words at his brother.  
“There are so few books on angels.”  
Sherlock sucked in a puff of tobacco and wondered how john was doing. Sherlock hadn't been to 221b in three days, perhaps he’s go back today.  
“They’re done protecting this planet” Sherlock started.  
“So daddy has gone, and the children have gotten bored.” Mycroft chimed in sarcastically.  
“That seems to be the usual course of action when a child is left unsupervised. Perhaps they've just decided not to intervene.”  
Mycroft gave a steady nod, even though Sherlock couldn't see him, he knew. Mycroft stood from his chair, placed the book into its spot once again and gripped the handle of his umbrella.  
“Shall we pay our guests a visit?” he smiled lightly, he needed to blow of some steam, surely they both did.  
Sherlock held an open hand out as Mycroft walked closer, “Phone.” and so Mycroft handed him his phone.  
Sherlock typed a quick text message and pressed send. “I’m going home” He informed his brother before getting up to exit the library.  
“Do send Dr. Watson my regards.” Mycroft mused before leaving pulling up the messages in his phone, curious as to what his brother needed to send.  
Did you get the milk?  
-SH

Mycroft chuckled for a moment, His brother seemed to care for Dr. John Watson. They were a good match, he would admit that, they complemented each other. Mycroft walked down a steady hallway till he came to the door he wanted, silently hoping for the sake of his little brother that his involvement with Dr. Watson did not end badly.  
With a steady hand on the cold metal doorknob, Mycroft allowed his face to grow cold and detached.  
“Hello Mr. Holmes, its a pleasure to see your lovely face again.” The woman in the room licked her bloody lips eyeing Mycroft from head to toe and back again. He didn’t dignify her with a response, didn’t even look at the woman who sat bloodied and scared tied to a cold metal chair in the center of a devils trap.  
“Have you come back with some more foreplay, Darling?” she smiled devilishly. Her teeth were pearly white on the dirty face of an innocent woman. Mycroft wouldn't think of that though, he would think of what he needed, a solution. an answer.  
“Will you speak today?” He swung his umbrella from side to side, still not looking at the woman.  
The demons smile faltered, and she never took her wary eyes off of the man, “Maybe if you hit the right spot, big boy” she spat out confidently.  
Mycroft pulled an angel blade from the table near the door, he eyed the blade admiringly, watching the muffled luster under dried blood. He took the blade in one palm and walked over to the woman, he traced the exterior of the bullet wound on the side of her forehead. They had removed the bullets and kept all the living demons in for questioning. She hissed at him and he slit a new thin line of blood down her face. The blade cut into her nostril tearing the skin and allowing the blood to pool out. Mycroft grinned, but his thoughts were shaky, he had to remind himself that the human that was once in there is dead now, theres only a disgusting twisted soul in there.

asdfghjkl;’

“Sherlock, you’re alright I see.” Mrs. Hudson smiled up at him.  
“You know nothing could keep me from coming home to Baker street,” he allowed a half smile to take shape on his lips as he placed a hand comfortably onto her arm. He removed it fairly quickly though, to turn and head up the stairs, He was sure John wasn’t home. Not yet. He was probably at that boring job of his.  
“John should be home soon.” Mrs. Hudson followed him to the main floor. She began to tell a story about a customer at the shop, but Sherlock couldn't be bothered.  
“Mrs. Hudson” He muttered, “I’m thinking.”  
“Oh, yes of course. I’ll make you some tea than. hows that?” She hurried into the kitchen, followed by a noise of agreement from Sherlock.  
With that, Sherlock closed his eyes and eased into the couch, pressing his palms together under his nose. He put together all he knew about angels and demons and began to look through them. He was positive that Raphael had to be the one taking control up in heaven, It was the only option that made sense. This Lilith demon was going to get what she wanted, that much was clear. There wasn’t much information on the seals of the apocalypse, so they never had much to go on. This was a problem Sherlock was having trouble figuring out. Pieces were missing, evidence had been tampered. What he did know for sure was that it would happen and Heaven would do nothing to stop Lucifer from walking the earth. There was no telling how bad the end of the world could actually be, all that was left was to wait. Perhaps he’d need something stronger than tea.   
“Sherlock.”  
He thought of how much cocaine he had left. It was somewhere in the fire place with his needle. He smiled slightly at the thought.  
“Sherlock!” The voice was irritated. It was Johns voice.  
Sherlock opened his eyes to look at John standing in front of him “Hello John.”  
“Where have you been off to this time?” He raised an eyebrow at sherlock, daring him to explain. Sherlock looked around the room quickly.  
“So you forgot the milk than?” His eyes met Johns.  
“No. right. Sorry, I was too busy getting my arse here because my flatmate decides to disappear in the middle of a case and show up days later!” he spat sarcastically “You know, Lestrade had to figure it out himself.”  
Sherlock let out a muffled laugh, “so I’ll take it the real murderer is still out there than.”  
“Sherlock, that isn’t the point”  
“Excellent deduction John. The point is that I have more important matters.” He watched as Mrs. Hudson gathered tea cups and turned the kettle off.  
“More important than people dying?”   
Sherlock met Johns eyes as Mrs Hudson came in with the tray of tea. “You boys are together one minute and already your having a domestic” she placed the tray down onto the small counter in front of the couch. She took her cup, and left the room, mumbling something along the lines of “can’t you two just enjoy each others company.” Perhaps she was right. It’s the end of the world after all.  
“You’ve got a new girlfriend.” Sherlock observed.  
John nodded nervously “Yes. Well. She’s a sweetheart.”  
“Yes I’m sure” Sherlock turned his attention to his tea, sipping it.  
John sat in his usual seat with his cup. “Do you usually do this than?”  
It was times like these when Sherlock wished he kept his Cocaine in a location other than the one spot he never wanted John to see.  
“Hmm?” He mumbled after another sip.  
“Leave.” John specified. “Do you do this disappearing act fairly often?”  
“I suppose.” It was silent for a while while they finished their tea. Sherlock considered what John thought he did when he left for days. Something foolish no doubt, perhaps he thought Sherlock was a spy of some sort. Maybe he thought he went away on holiday to have sex with groups of men and woman.  
“Dinner?”  
“Yes, sure. How does Thai food sound?”  
“It’ll do.” Sherlock stood up, stepping onto and over the counter top to grab his coat and pull it on along with his scarf.  
It wasn’t until they were in the cab for a few moments that they spoke again. It was obvious John was dying to ask questions, but Sherlock hadn’t pressed the matter, he wasn’t feeling like answering them.  
“Could you at least tell me where?”  
Sherlock glanced over to him, before looking out the window again.  
“I was with Mycroft.” He paused, not sure if it was wise to give any information away “in Africa.”  
“Af.” Johns eyebrows scrunched together. “Africa?” Sherlock only nodded, not meeting Johns eyes.  
“What, were you on holiday?”  
“Of course not. It was a case.”  
“One you can’t tell me about is that right.”  
“Mycroft and I do our own cases. He does insist I don’t share the details.”  
“Right, of course. And you listen to your brother since when?” John pressed.  
“Since he needed me, John” Sherlock met Johns eyes then, his own blue eyes wary, daring John to push on.  
John mumbled under the gaze but didn’t move his eyes, he wasn’t scared of Sherlock, but he was polite. “Right, well then. Brother things, I understand.”  
The Taxi came to a stop, and Sherlock broke the eye contact to exit, leaving John to pay the Cabbie.  
They entered the restaurant to be welcomed by a short woman, “Sherlock Holmes! What a pleasure to see you here! Come, Come. I’ll get you and your date a table, dear. Anything for the man who saved my son from vampires!”  
Sherlock smiled politely, “Yes. Thank you.” the two of them followed the woman to a booth in the back. Hopefully John wouldn't think too much of what the woman had said.  
but of course that was a foolish thing to hope. After they were handed the menus, he asked.  
“This woman believes you saved her son from vampires?” he let out a soft chuckle before picking up his menu.  
“Everyone is an idiot” Sherlock explained before hearing his phone beep. He fished it out to see the message.

We’ll get nothing out of this lot.  
-MH  
Well of course they wouldn’t. Sometimes even Mycroft was an idiot.   
“Who is it?” John asked, trying to look uninterested.

I’m sure Lilith is far more frightening than your umbrella.  
-SH

Sherlock sent the message before responding to John. “Mycroft.”  
John nodded into the menu. “Another case than?”  
“The same one actually.” Sherlock took a sip of water, examining the people in the restaurant.   
“oh.” he paused. “So the Amazing Sherlock Holmes hasn’t figured it out yet.” He teased.  
“Ive figured it out. Theres hardly anything I can do though. Two sides are fighting against each other, and one side is only pretending.”   
“So why do the case if there isn’t a point?”  
“Mycroft requires my assistance.” He started. “People will die” he said certainty. Sherlock cared far more about his brother then he would let anyone believe.  
“I’m sorry is that sentiment?” John grinned at Sherlock.  
Sherlock analyzed his face for a moment, “absolutely not. I’m doing my job”  
“Right, well. Take a moment from your job and figure out what you’re going to order.” John put his menu down and began to sip his water.  
“I know what I’m going to order.” His lip curled up slightly. John couldn’t stimulate his brain the same way coke could, but he certainty was a good stress reliever. This night was to be filled with enjoyment, Sherlock would be sure of it. The two of them drank and ate and laughed. They teased each other, and laughed some more.   
Somehow they ended up back at 221b on the floor of Johns room. Sherlock could feel fingers in his hair from John who was sitting cross-legged behind him.  
“The world is ending, John” Sherlock said softly, sadly even.  
“No it isn’t. You just need sleep.”  
Sherlock continued as if john never spoke, “I can’t figure out how to fix this one. You’re right Dr. Watson, I’m not as great as I thought”  
“You’re great. Whatever it is, you can figure it out”  
“I’ve figured out that hell is winning. The Angels don’t care about humans.We’re all going to die.” Sherlock began to unbutton his shirt, John rolled his eyes at what he believed was nonsense. Sherlock slid the shirt off of his shoulders.  
“Massage my back,” He ordered, and John did it. It just happen to be the nature of their relationship.  
John pressed his thumbs into Sherlocks shoulder blades and rubbed deep circles into the skin. He thought for a while about what Sherlock was saying. Sherlock doesn't feel things the way normal people do. so why did it sound like he felt guilty? Why did Sherlock Holmes sound worried?  
“Why is it the end of the world?” John asked, rubbing a pressured palm up and down Sherlock’s spine.  
Sherlock was about to tell john everything, but decided against it last second. “If The world is ending” He started, turning around to look at John. “will you have sex with me, John?” His lips turned up. John laughed. He laughed with his mouth wide and his hands gripping his sides, and Sherlock laughed with him.  
“The world wont end, Sherlock.” he assured him.  
“Wrong.” Sherlock stated, “But I wish you were right,” he played with the words on his tongue for a second “I’d much like it if your life didn't have to end.”  
Sherlock watched Johns face, he knew nothing could go wrong.   
“Sentiment?” John teased.He had watched John for some time and despite his words, John was interested. Sherlock had checked his pulse, he had made sure adrenaline wasn't in affect. He’d watched Johns pupils be affected by his presence, he listened to the hitch in Johns breath as he just took of his shirt, felt the slight moisture of clammy hands on his shoulder blades.   
“Sentiment.” Sherlock pressed drunken lips to his friend’s, only half way on Johns mouth. He felt the lips press back against his and that was all he needed. Sherlock smiled against Johns lips, and pulled back. He stretched forward for more of Sherlock, but he wouldn’t get any.  
Sherlock met the shocked eyes of his friend, “Good night John.”  
“Will you be here tomorrow?” was all John could think to ask.  
Sherlocks lip curled up at the thought that John wanted him.  
“I can’t promise that.” He got to his feet, and dragged them to his own room.  
It was hard enough for John to get undressed and into bed, but the real trouble was getting up in the morning.


	3. Just Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks so much for the reviews and follows. its nice to know that a few people my story :D anyway, I'm so sorry this took so long and that its also kinda short. I just wanted to get it up already. I'm going to try and post more regularly since its summer now, but i start work soon so no promises. I hope you enjoy the story! every review, suggestion and like or follow or favorite makes me so happy! so please comment <3

John was woken up by voices.

"Why are we still trying?" Sherlock.

"Would you feel that much better if we all sat back and watched? My brother and I are Rebelling against heaven to help you apes and your pitiful planet, and you would like to inform me that you don't understand why?" He didn't recognize this voice, they had a french accent.

John stretched and sat up in bed, listening before he got up to put pants on.

"I understand." Sherlock pointed out, his voice laced with danger. "But it's pointless."

"You're ungrateful. It's disgusting." The other person spat "Your brother is doing everything he can."

"Like you,Mycroft is desperate, l am practical." Sherlock explained.

John opened the door and went into the main room, and the tension almost disappeared.

"ah," the strange french man mused "Well if it isn't your little pet. Why hasn't Sherlock introduced us before." The man grinned at him, sipping a glass of liquor. but its morning, isn't it? "So rude, this one" he pointed a thumb out toward Sherlock.

"Yes, sure. so who are you than?" John asked, eyebrows furrowing.

The man held out a hand "I'm Balthazar, a friend of Sherlock's."

John took the hand warily, "Sherlock doesn't have any friends." he thought aloud.

"Yes well, I can understand why" Balthazar cupped a hand around his mouth and whispered "He's god awful with talking to people."

"Balthazar!" Sherlock groaned. "Can we get this finished with?"

John watched them, trying to figure out what was going on.

"But I've only just met little Johnny!" He whined to Sherlock before turning his attention to John and grinning "I'm sure we'll be great friends."

"Take me to Mycroft." Sherlock muttered again.

"You're leaving again?" John asked, looking between the two men, "is this one of your boy friends than?" his eyebrows scrunched together. He almost couldn't tell if the kiss he shared with Sherlock last night was real or a dream.

Balthazar chuckled and Sherlock looked disgusted.

"God no" Sherlock grimaced.

"Leave my Father out of this." Balthazar mused.

"Right, your father?" John mumbled.

"Alright time for me to be off!" Sherlock chimed in, he headed for the door, his coat already on and his hand already fishing for a fag. Balthazar was right on his heel, only turning to grin mischievously at John, "A pleasure to finally meet you." before leaving.

So John stood there, confused and ever so slightly hung over. Alright alright, lets start from the beginning; Last night. Last night Sherlock was feeling emotion, he was sure of that, he seemed upset, and rather hopeless. He was convinced the world was ending. What was it he said about it? Something about heaven and hell, though John was sure Sherlock hated riddles. Sherlock kissed him. Sherlock kissed him. Sherlock Fucking Holmes was drunk and kissed him. Something about that small fact made him feel very warm inside.

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Things had gone as the Holmes brothers expected, All the remaining seals were broken after that It didn't take long over a month. John and Sherlock were sitting in their respected chairs in the living room. John was nagging Sherlock about his drug use when Balthazar and Mycroft walked through the door with hard expressions.

"He's risen" Sherlock stated.

"Just this morning" Mycroft confirmed.

"Right. Well I judge you'll be eating your emotions, brother or would you care to join me in my drug use tonight?" Sherlock mused, closing his eyes and stretching a tight smile against his hands.

"There's no need for either of you to be doing drugs" John tossed in.

"Listen," Balthazar started. "They're talking. They're saying that Sam and Dean are the vessels for Michael and Lucifer. Those darling brothers are even more stubborn than you two. If they would have to kill each other, they wouldn't."

"You're lying through your teeth Balthazar." Sherlock stated dryly.

"I'm hoping, Sherlock. I know its hard for an ape like you to see the difference but I-"

"Will you boys stop behaving like children!" Mycroft interrupted, stabbing his umbrella against the floor. "Heavens made a plan, we know they will follow through with it no matter what." he said coldly.

John always wondered why they would discuss things like this in front of him, most likely because he didn't understand any of it anyway.

"Perhaps the plans can still be manipulated" John suggested, hoping to relieve tension.

"Perhaps." Sherlock muttered sarcastically.

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"And know that If you are lying to me, I will skin you" Jim Moriarty stood at the back end of the pool, a phone pressed to his ear.

"Are you trying to show off to your little friends, Jim. Threaten me again, love and I'll have my hound on you."

"Oh how you do love to tease," Moriarty grinned into the phone. Sherlock and John shared looks, both equally taken back by this turn of events.

"Let them live, Pet. I don't have time to be hunted down by angels today" The man spoke into Moriarty's ear.

"Oh Crowley, darling how you do love to ruin my fun" Moriarty mused.

Crowley was a name that connected instantly with Sherlock. He was a crossroads demon, king of all of the crossroad demons in fact. He'd been one of a large bunch of demons that was currently on the Holmes watch list, one who had potential, potential that had to be carefully observed before it was fulfilled

"Apes." was hissed into Moriarty's ear before the conversation was cut and the phone tucked away.

"Theres been a change of plans," He stressed a sarcastic smile.

"Oh have you got someone else you'd rather be killing?" John sarcastically mused.

"Yes actually, but I'll be back for you lot another time." Jim paused for affect, glancing at sherlock before exiting with a "Till next time, Sherlock."

It didn't take long for the two flatmates to leave the pool, they had both seen enough for the day, or at least John hoped Sherlock had. He'd had a bomb strapped to his chest and a gun pointed at his chest and even after that the most stressful part had been prior to it. John had been taken by Moriarty's men and was set up with the bomb and all rather quickly. While the men never spoke to him, Moriarty did. He whispered into Johns ear through the ear piece, speaking highly of himself and his successful career as a consulting criminal. He told john how marvelous Sherlock was and what a challenging delight he must be to work with. "Too bad I'm going to blow you and him both up." He would muse almost happily, then there would be a pout in his voice, "How boring things will be once he is out of the way." It was scary how easily John could pick out similarities between the two genius's within such little time.

Sherlock shook the ashes from the end of his cigarette out the window of the taxi and then pulled it back to meet his lips once more.

"Bored again?" John pressed for conversation.

"The chase seems to be over before it fully began, but of course it isn't. It's dreadfully boring to wait for Moriarty's next move" the smoke blew its way into his words.

"Should have known the threat of death would only turn you on to it," John tried to hide his slight smile, but Sherlock knew as he always did.

"Oh as if you don't love the thrill, Dr. Watson." It was the slight curl at the edge of Sherlock's lips alone that cornered John.

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"Are you sure he's human?" Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

"Of course I'm sure. Are you suggesting that I'm wrong?" Sherlock questioned his brother as if it were the most ridiculous assumption to make, and perhaps it was.

"Working with humans is low, even for Crowley." Balthazar spoke. It didn't make a lick of sense for Moriarty and Crowley to be working together, what was there to gain from a consulting criminal? Why specifically was he needed?

"The man is smart, brilliant even." Sherlock suggested.

"Oh, don't tell me you're infatuated with him now." Mycroft rolled his eyes and Sherlock casually ignored him.

"Crowley is using him and perhaps for something very important. Judging by the timing of these events I'd say it has something to do with Lucifer's rising, but thats the wrong assumption. He's a demon, they're stupid, predictable. He isn't going to do anything too risky while his god walks among us, but he's looking for power obviously."

"He's collecting up new pets, well thats just lovely. But what in bloody hell are we supposed to do about my brother? You know, the angel who wants to destroy humanity?!" Balthazar was pretty much fed up with how humans worked at this point, they're presented with a task and here these brothers are grieving over charred sand around a burning house.

"There's only so much we can do about that problem. It ranks at least a seven compared to Crowley's potential which is placed at an eight." Mycroft suggested as he rolled the handle of his umbrella across his palm, "Its possibility has already been predicted, planned. We know the full story as well as the extent of the damage, whereas-"

"I'm sorry, allow me to stop you right there. Underestimating my big brother is not a decision I'd advise you to make." Balthazar warned the two of them, on the edge of his irritation.

"I assure you that we aren't. Satan is believed to be the source of all evil, it never dawned on me to overlook his capability" Sherlock added.

"He isn't the source of all evil." Balthazar defended his brother, how could he not. His brother had been cast into hell, but he was never loved any less by father, by Michael, or by any of them.

"Perhaps we should meet with the Winchesters to discus an approach? Its about time we learned who we're fighting along side, don't you think?" Mycroft suggested.

"A trip to America to converse, how absolutely marvelous of you to suggest, Mycroft." Sherlock draped his poppy sarcasm through his words as he lit a fag.

"I thought we'd gone over this, brother! I don't want you carelessly smoking in my library." He sternly rebuked his brother.

"I assure you Mycroft, I exhale every puff with great care and precision." Sherlock smiled through the light smoke. Balthazar was gone with a sigh and a swift eye roll, leaving the Holmes brothers to irritate themselves.

Mycroft snatched the fag from his brother, "You told Mother you'd quit anyhow!"

"Have you no sense of when to shut up! You're hardly one to speak." Sherlock tried to reach for his cigarette back and for a moment it was as if they were children again fighting over a book that Mycroft had taken from him. Mycroft put the cigarette out and tossed it into the rubbish.

"Must you always bring that up?" He shook his head as a tired man who'd seen enough for his day.

"You can bring up Mother to me, but some how your fed up when I dare suggest Mummy's disappointment its a federal offense!" Sherlock continued, frustrated with their constant bickering.

"I did what I had to do!" Mycroft snapped.

"No." Sherlock stated as warily as he was calm, " You just left." eyebrows pushed together years of miscommunication and Betrayal that had been bottled up. The eye contact they held for a never ending minute was heart breaking. When words were finally spoken, it was as if the outburst had been erased from both of their memories.

"I'd assume that we'll be finding our own route to America." Mycroft.

"It would appear that way." Sherlock nodded in agreement before raising from his usual seat in the library and making his way to the door. "I'll see you at the air port tomorrow evening."


End file.
